Grief
by Honey Lane
Summary: A second person fic. Carter's POV. After Kem, After Africa, he's left stranded, with Abby out of reach who can save him? Please R&R.
1. What now?

Authors Note: Decided to write a fic using the second person-just to be different. It's Carter's POV. It's angsty, but hopefully will turn fluffy in the end. I've always thought Galby would be quite a good storyline, he seems to be the one who supports her a lot (and I'm still trying to work out why he was present in Secrets and Lies) so theres my logic. There's going to be three chapters.  
  
Spoilers: Seen up to NICU 12th of tenth series. But other than that I haven't read any so any resemblance is totally incidental, it's just what I hope will happen I guess.  
  
Disclaimer: I no nothing  
  
Rating: PG, nothing to make it more than a G yet but just in case there is later.  
  
She stands on the tall stone wall, looking at the small objects beneath her, and it makes her look twice as strong as you already know she is. Her dark golden hair drifts around her head, pushed up and backwards by the wind so it forms a halo behind her angelic features. And you wonder why you only realise this too late, why like everything in your life she's gone before you realise her worth. The irony is you always thought she'd leave you. You try not to think of the reason why you crossed that border, made those steps, that journey, the memory of everything too painful. You just know it was the biggest mistake.  
  
She's smiling though, so perhaps she's happy, and that in itself would be enough. But your all too aware of Abby's masks and her past to know how well she can hide. And you can't read her eyes any longer, they blocked you out as you wrote that letter. You lied, you wrote, "You didn't turn out to be everything I expected" Is that right? You can't quiet remember, the words have slipped from your memory like the other life, the life that bought you apart. The reasons were so clear to you then, as clear as the blue skies that drifted over the torture. The logic: She was wrong, and you'd found some one who was right. But just as the skies of Africa hide the pain and torture of the war-torn souls underneath that "logic" was hiding something else. Your fear of trust, of love. The fear you placed on to her. In one of the warmer moments, where you don't hate yourself as much as perhaps you should, you smile thinking you'd make a good Freudian case, displacement and repression all present in one person.  
  
You tell yourself you love her, and you should tell her, one of the things you liked about the "old" you was the unrelenting honesty. You put yourself in the firing line for her many a time and you didn't regret it. But then you realise the lies started a while before now, as you walk with Abby, your "friend", and Gallant, her "boyfriend", through crowded streets. You think about the other life and like a jolt of electricity you're stopped. Tears spring to your eyes, you feel them burn into your soul.  
  
"Anything wrong?" he asks holding her, yours, close. You lie again "Nothing" you say "Thought I forgot something"  
  
You did forget something, you forgot how awful you were back then, how hurtful, unforgiving. There wasn't anything to forgive, it was as unmotivated as any other action you've ever performed. You reach into the leather pocket, feeling around the crumpled edges of that pain again. She needed you, you read it in her eyes, you saw the truth simply, as she lay in the hospital bed, and you walked away. That's what you do, you make you the centre of their life and then leave them without a hope, with nothing. Abby's recovered though, she's laughing now, still cradled by him, so perhaps that means Kem is, that everything with her is good now. You see Abby's soft lips crush into his, and you feel them as though you were that person still, this hurts deeper, to think that you're not. And you wonder why you came tonight anyway, she had refused your offer of dinner with Kem, you should have turned down the offer of dinner with Gallant; but of course you didn't, unable to refuse her anything-now.  
  
They look happy through the meal, smiling and laughing, you see their lips moving but if you hear the words they don't register. There's no way you would be able to answer any question anyway. Gallant leaves, restroom most likely, but that doesn't matter, what does is that you're alone with her once more, and she's giving you that look, that tell me everything look. She still cares enough to ask? "You've been quiet all night" she states, it's more of an observation than a question, so you shrug, avoiding her, unable to admit the truth to anyone, not even her "What's wrong, John?" she asks, placing her hand over yours, you feel the chemistry reign free inside of you, taking hold of your head silencing it; and you prepare yourself for the truth, the unrelenting statement, that she is your everything. But then flashbacks of the day after those killings appears leaving their traces on your soul, the way she looked at you, when you told her "I don't want to be you're friend", pity wasn't it? You don't want that again, so you ignore the question, you tell her you're fine, lying again. Anyway, before you get a chance to say anything else he comes back. He fiddles with his pager as he talks to her, and you think about the way work has been a catalyst in every step of your relationship. The meeting, the fact you over looked her before she saved you, was the only one who saw enough to save you. The bringing together, the kiss when your worlds were falling apart. The ending, the leaving to save people more worth saving than her, than you. The falling again, the confident med student, the gutsy woman, how you love her. Coming back into reality again you notice he has his hand out for you to shake, a sign of warmth, you wonder how you can ever make a pretence so blatant, and then you recall the last nine months and smile, you say "Thanks it was good"  
  
More lies, you're very good at it. He walks off and she returns the look to her eyes. It's no good, you have to tell her something. But the thing is, you have had fun tonight, managing to smile, being with her has always bought that out. And you don't want it to end badly, you don't want to make her angry. You have to tell her something now, the truth? She would ask you why you've changed, leave sulky and in a mood with you. Or you could pretend its work, and let her think you don't trust her. It's dangerous territory. Her lips are moving again forming silent words and falling back into consciousness you hear them, hang on to them  
  
"I know things haven't exactly been great, and well we're not as close as we were, but I still like to think you could talk to me, confide in me"  
  
She smiles, making her plea precise and you think you could. It's only three little words, they couldn't be that hard to say. You think.  
  
"I lo" you stop, she doesn't need you, she's happy, leave her "You?" she pushes you, as though she wants to know "Well it's just that I, I erm, well you know" you start stumbling again, and you realise you're too late to tell her, the interest is dying and you should say something before you loose her "I just can't decide whether to go back to Africa" You wimp. Not as though that bridge has already been burned beyond repair. "Is that it?" she smiles, she thinks it's the truth, she doesn't know you, she cant read you like you can't read her, you've grown apart, the closeness lost. "Well you know we need you here Carter" She says a statement that will be recalled in countless future times as you consider the possibilities of repair. But even now with fresh unanalysed ears you note the difference between we and I. 


	2. Addicted to falling

The perfect white circles sit in your hand, denting your skin. It's started again, you can tell it's happening, people say the first slip is slow and gentle, you don't know when its upon you, it's a lie, how can you not tell when your addicted? The only thing is, how do you stop it? You can't go back to AA, the probing questions, the feelings of guilt, you don't need it. And you can hardly go and see your old sponsor, she wouldn't understand, not any more, and well, admitting it to her means admitting it to yourself doesn't it? And your not quiet ready to do that yet. You wish she was here, that she would just know, like she always used to. That's your fault as well.  
  
So, until your strong enough, you sit here, suffering pain far too deep to be cured by narcotics. But you're worried-what if you don't get strong enough? You know, all too well, you cant save yourself from this, and what then? You'll end up like one of the homeless people you treat here? You smirk, full of hatred, as you recall that time you linked Abby with Stan, mentally and verbally, told her she needs to stop it before she ends up like him; but she was in control-she told you she could stop drinking when she wants to, and somewhere deep inside you knew she could. But you can't can you?  
  
And those dreams have started again, well, the memories. The ones that used to haunt you every night after the first death. Her crumpled face, the pain, the sheer exhaustion. How pathetic you were, you didn't move, let her bleed to death. You should have shouted or done something. But the pain was too much, you couldn't breath let alone call for help. But this time, this time you could have done something about it, you could have protected Kem at least, but you were weak again. And as you read that letter, you knew you should have gone to Africa to be with her, but its too late now, everything's too late.  
  
You watch as your Abby attempts to comfort a mourning mother, and you recall all the things you say to relatives and friends day after day, year after year, "I'm so sorry", "It will get better". But it cant ever can it? You know that now. You cant ever move on past death, something will always bring you back to it. There's always some sort of scar. You absent mindedly let your fingers creep up the first scar, the wound. And you wonder where the next one will be, its only right that it should be bigger, covering more of your life, he was your son after all. You look at the sonogram picture again, the black and white dots, as real as Jason will ever be. And you make your slow assent to the roof. 


	3. After Everything

I know I said there was only going to be three chapters but this last one was [B/]really[/B] long so thought I'd shorten it down. Thanks for all the reviews, they make me smile : )  
  
You feel a clasp around your hand, and open your eyes slowly. Your eyes take a while to adjust to the bright lights, and your ear locates a faint beeping in the background. You turn to see who or what has clasped your hand like metal and a figure comes slowly into view. Her blonde hair folds delicately over her face, softening her delicate features, but the remaining brown shouts a big contrast, emphasising her character. Her deep brown eyes are locked on to you, investigating you, they shine with the enormous energy she promotes, but the skin around is red and puffy, and you notice a silent tear escape. You want to know what's made her cry, you want to protect her from what ever it is that's hurt her, you want to save her from anything hurting her again, and you smirk as you realise the pathetic romantic movie bloke you sound like, and why she closed you out in the first place. But her beautiful smile turns up at the corners as she sees you looking back at her, and you think maybe it's not too late, maybe things could return, she is by your bedside after all. You bring your free hand up to her face and clear a tear away. You feel her shiver under your touch.  
  
"I was so worried, I thought, I know, it's stupid, but I thought, I thought you wouldn't wake up or that something would go wrong, I thought I'd hear that sound and I'd know that that would be it, I don't want that to be it"  
  
Her words confuse you, and so does that perpetual beeping behind your right ear. Your eyes bring everything into focus, and with that the memory of everything else, like somebody's just lifted a veil over you. You're throat is scratchy and sour and you feel the pain of the nasal canula . You realise the pain of your every muscle as you recall the heartache. You begin to feel the power of the pills in your hand again, and that thought that everything could be cured.  
  
"I'm so sorry Carter. I can't believe that you could slip and not tell me" You see your pain highlighted in her eyes "We, we err, we tried calling Kem, but you're butler, or what ever, said she'd gone back, I thought you said she was staying here until Jason was eight months, what's going on?" You here her inquisitive voice, and guess you owe her an explanation, after everything. 


End file.
